


Coffee Shop

by ninayoshi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Kink, Dark Will Graham, Homophobic Language, Lapdance, M/M, Mutilation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Hannibal Lecter, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninayoshi/pseuds/ninayoshi
Summary: Hannibal chooses his target, and Will sets his lures. Both monsters on the prowl. That’s how dates go.——Do not expect a coffee shop AU. Hell, don’t expect anything at all. This is so dark but it had to come out, and it’s thanks to a particular RP I had with a friend years ago. Amads, if you’re reading this, You Know.





	Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

> 1 am is always the perfect time to write shameless murder smut. Unbeta’d and typed within 4 hours... Pardon the erratic tense switching. Advanced xoxo to all those that read and left me some lovin’.

The froth in the mocha placed in front of them looked vaguely like a meathook, rather than a swan, whatever the barista had mentioned. Will takes a polite sip from his cup, just as Hannibal does so. Not so good. Bitter aftertaste of misused coffee beans, barely warm, and the art is horrendous.  
  
“Why this coffee shop?” Will prodded as his partner, seated opposite of him, watches the world go by. The bustling city noises that he is well-accustomed to, the very human sound of industry, engines, and mindless chatter envelops them. Will’s own attention was sapped away by the very same scene as well, and the Mediterranean heat does not help. It is a drowsy and hot, the Cuban sun unforgiving in its radiance.

  
After a while Hannibal’s eyes returned to the empath’s, smiling. “The coffee.”  
  
“Atrocious.”  
  
His smile grew wider still, but it was a twitch of a muscle more than a predatory one. Will knows it’s the same either ways.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Barista don’t know jack shit about brewing coffee.” Will huffs, taking another large gulp of coffee to get it over with. He winces, the dishwater taste clinging onto his tongue. And to think the barista had the nerve to charge them 200 pesos each.  
  
“Gross.”  
  
Hannibal does not reply to the comment, just pushing the cup of coffee away from himself as though the mere presence of it will poison him. The entire coffee shop already poisoned his mood.  
  
“So, why this coffee shop again?” Hannibal once again, skirted around the question, as though he had already answered it. Will was not dumb to not have caught on ever since the first sip of coffee, he was just curious why this, and why now? There are far ruder people out here on the streets of Cuba. Hannibal has his moods, he supposed.  
  
Just as the thought drifted by the doctor raised his hand for a bill. The barista, the damned barista, rolled his eyes (strike one) and stepped away from behind the counter, readjusting his standard issue apron.  
  
“What.” (Strike two)  
  
Hannibal looks up at the barista, polite smile staying on his face. His eyes were an entirely different story, and Will shuddered what kind of plans he already had in store for him.  
  
“Ah, bill.” The barista muttered something that Will couldn’t quite catch, but judging from the darkening of Hannibal’s eyes he knew it was something awfully rude.  
  
Strike three. This man would be dead by tonight. Will tilts his head and grins as the bill is paid and their little escapade into a normal life ends.  
  
“Shall we?” Hannibal asks, and they both leave the coffee shop, hand-in-hand.

* * *

  
The nearby bar is relatively empty save for washed-up nobodies who preferred to drink their sorrows away. The barista was one such person, piling up empty glasses and shots as time goes by.  
  
He shouted something in slurred Spanish at the bartender, who only grunted back in response. The drunken man stumbles out into the night streets, where no one spared a look. He bumps into two solid walls, only to realise the walls were clothed and it was two men. Very familiar men.  
  
“Come now, Carlos, you are drunk as shit.” The messier haired guy spoke, and the barista frowned.  
  
“Not Carlos, I’m-“  
  
“Let’s bring you home.” The scarier looking one spoke now, and he shook his head.  
  
“Ohhhh, you two, huh? Come to find trouble again?” He slurred, and the two men looked at each other. ‘Carlos’ laughed at their apparent confusion. Americans are dumb.  
  
His laugh was stopped short when he realised both of them were grinning, his throat was tight with pressure and he was losing consciousness fast.

* * *

  
Will hovers over the unconscious man, pissed as hell. They are back at their shoddy motel room and Hannibal, Hannibal fucking Lecter wants him to-  
  
“Just a lap dance,” is all Hannibal says, as he settles himself comfortably into one chair this room has. Will is definitely angry at the mere suggestion of letting this piece of shit anywhere near him, let alone touch him.  
  
“Or else we have to let him go.” He clarifies with a certain air of disappointment, and it made Will roll his eyes. So be it. Another barista lives. Who cares.  
  
Hannibal tilts his head. “Blood has to be shed tonight, Will. You and I know very well the transgression he had inflicted upon us. And possibly the rest of humanity.” A dejected sigh.  
  
“Yeah, shitty coffee and bad service,” Will gritted out. “If we murder each and every of these poor souls Starbucks would be out of business.”  
  
“He called us fags too.”  
  
That sent a pulse of anger through his veins. Such uncouth, vulgar language.  
  
“The lap dance is not for his entertainment then.” Will shifted, seating himself on the man’s lap, waiting for him to stir. Not long now.  
  
“No, of course not.” Hannibal takes off his suit, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt and rolling up his sleeves. Settling into a far more comfortable position, a stark difference between Will (still fully clothed and angry) and himself (relaxing and surprisingly, eager to watch).  
  
“Fuckin’ pervert,” He gritted out, as he gets himself into a mindset of someone other than himself. It’s far easier that way, to play pretend than to be immerse in enjoying the lap dance. But Will Graham will return for the grand finale. The idea made him lick his lips in anticipation, and he slaps ‘Carlos’ awake.  
  
The barista started with a shout, and immediately struggled as he found himself bound and gagged, and horribly naked. He screams, but no one is there to listen. There are far too many patrons who used this place for unsavoury businesses, and the owners can’t give a damn.  
  
Will lets out a breath of amusement, pressing his hands on the man’s bare chest. “You are excited aren’t you? Your heart is beating so fast.”‘Carlos’ shook his head, which made him laugh.  
  
“I’m going to give you a hell of a show. I know you would love it.” Will began stripping as fast as possible, occasionally glancing back at Hannibal. “Don’t mind him,” Will smiles, as he reveals flushed skin, arousal already seeping into his veins. “He likes to watch.”  
  
Hannibal returns a smile, this time brazenly palming himself as Will discards all the useless pieces of clothing onto the floor.  
  
‘Carlos’ on the other hand, continues screaming and tries to buck Will off of himself, which made the man moan in delight.  
  
“Carlos my dear, it is my show tonight. Don’t be hasty!” Will’s tone changed from flirty and light to something _other_ , hands gripping tight at the poor barista’s hair. “Do not struggle, or else I will make you wished you were dead ten times over.”  
  
Will could hear a sharp intake of breath, and it amuses him so that Hannibal likes to see him like this. Being a tease, a sweet innocent giggly thing, before taking a life. As easy as flipping a switch.  
  
“Where were we?” Will is still in his underwear, the shape of his cock jutting against the fabric. He rolls his hips as ‘Carlos’ whimper, heeding Will’s warning. “Ah, lap dance. I am not very experienced... But I know how to put on a show.” He sighs, his hands roaming up and down his own body, pinching at a nipple. He chuckles, a little breathless now.  
  
“He can’t see this, which is a shame really. Once again, ignore the creepy fuck behind me.” Hannibal snarls softly at that, but was quickly placated when Will finally tugs off his underwear and rolls his hips against the flaccid cock of their victim.  
  
“Why aren’t you hard? Am I not doing this well?” ‘Carlos’ frantically shook his head, either to disagree or to reject him outright. Will does not really care either ways. A show is a show. He retreats until his face was up against the barista’s cock, ass lifted high in the air for Hannibal to see.  
  
“Maybe if I sucked—“ Before Will could finish his sentence Hannibal was already behind him, fingers in his hair and tugging Will’s head harshly, hissing into his ears.  
  
“Maddening boy, a lap dance does not entail a blowjob. Your mouth is mine, as with the rest of your body.”  
  
Will decidedly whimpers then, on his knees and pulled up against Hannibal’s heaving chest. “Sorry, daddy.” He knows those words will always make Hannibal weak in the knees, and Will was immediately relinquished from the pain of having his entire weight supported purely by his hair. “Fuckin’ prick.”  
  
Their attention returns to ‘Carlos’, who had pissed himself in fright. The musk forced Will back into his own self, the ‘right’ headspace. “I guess I can stop playing now.”  
  
Hannibal left to start the electric kettle, tearing away packets of cheap motel coffee. Will pulls out a tarp to cover the surrounding area with, and rolls ‘Carlos’ off the bed with some difficulty. Both of them were wandering around the room with purpose, and they returned with a boiling pot of diluted coffee,a knife, and a transparent protection suit.

  
“I’ve never worn one of these naked. It feels tacky.” Will muttered, looking down at himself. Hannibal did not say much, merely raising an eyebrow at him. There were more pressing things to worry about.

  
Once again he climbed on top of the barista, knife in hand. No flirtatious laughter, or nervous energy of a virgin now. Only the cold and calculated mirth of a killer’s, one that has already anticipated the barista’s end.  
  
His throat was sliced open with ease, blood spraying everywhere. Will cursed at the mess, but began working the knife against the cheeks of the dying man below him. He bucked and heaved to cling onto life itself, desperately struggling to keep his blood within himself to no avail. Each squirm sent jolts of unwanted pleasure against Will’s cock, and he snarled. “Stop. Moving.”  
  
Will had to peel himself away from the jerking body, pulling back the Glasgow smile on his face and looks at Hannibal with the same expecting look. “Well? Pour it in.”  
  
Hannibal lifts the lip of the kettle and pours it down his throat, listening with intent to the wet gurgles made by the man. Flesh blistered and boiled, skin red from the heat of the boiling water. Will wrinkles his nose at the awful smell of bad coffee and death.  
  
When the entire content is spilled into ‘Carlos’ body, Will dropped him unceremoniously onto the blood-covered tarp and glares at Hannibal. The doctor, for a lack of a better word, was satisfied.  
  
“You wore someone else’s person suit like your own.” His comment was clinical, and Will rolled his eyes at that. Tonight was however, a little different.  
  
“But you would have let him fucked you, if he was aroused.” The comment continued, and Will shrugged, starting to pack and shift their tools into a clean duffle.  
  
“Just to spite me? Or you loved how possessive I could be.” Hannibal closed the distance between the two of them, pressing his hips behind Will. The younger man almost dropped whatever he was doing, eyes flutter shut.  
  
“Interesting.” They are in no shape to fuck; there is too many things to do. DNA to scrub, organs to harvest, and body to dispose of. Still, he continued to grind against the swell of Will’s ass, growling softly into his ear.  
  
“No one can defile you. After our consummation on top of that cliff, against the Dragon, you belonged to no one but me.” Another thrust, and Will had to brace himself against a nearby wall.  
  
He whines, nodding his head. “Yours, Hannibal. Don’t you want to fuck me? To reclaim what is yours, erase the scent of that bastard from my skin.”

They can clean up later.

  
Hannibal set about removing the protective suit from the both of them. His fingers wrapped around the base of Will’s neck, feeling him tense. The doctor did nothing except to continue stripping, and frees his cock from the constraints of his own pants. Will patiently waits for whatever divine wrath to land on his skin, body shaking in anticipation. Hannibal will be rough, and Will had earned that kind of anger from him. Which spurs him on, despite the fact that if truly displeased, Hannibal can simply snap his neck clean and be done with it.  
  
It became a feedback loop of arousal and fear, and Will slumps against the wall, gasping softly at his running imagination.  
  
“I know you intimately, and I relish in the fact that only I get to know you as well as you get to know me.” He takes out a small bottle of lube, prepared for this occasion. “Do you crave my attention so much, Will, that you decided to break the rules I’ve set in place to rouse my anger?”  
  
Will only smirked, replying with a drawl. “Your rules being ‘do as I say not as I do’? Fuckin’ hypocrite, you fucked Alana when I wasn’t with you-“  
  
That earned him a slap against his ass and a moan from his lips. “Impudent.” Hannibal wastes no time in slicking up two fingers and shoving them into Will’s ass, which made him cry out in genuine pain.  
  
“Impatient.” Will gritted out in response, and yet his thighs spread wider for Hannibal to use as he wished. He would not be able to stand like this for long, and Hannibal knows that. Time was never on their side anyways, especially with fresh meat and a murder on their hands.  
  
“You have always tested my patience,” Hannibal’s fingers curled and spread open, barely giving him any pleasure and purely to loosen him just enough to fuck. “It is running very thin tonight.”  
  
“C’mon then, do it-“ Just as those words spilled out of his mouth Hannibal replaces his fingers with a rough push of his swollen cock. Both of them groaned in unison at the sensation of it all. The tight heat, still dry and unrelenting, trying to push away the insistent press of Hannibal’s cock. Surely, but agonisingly slowly, he slides in, and their sounds of satisfaction mingled as one once again.

Will pants, the pain agonisingly sweet, so satisfyingly stuffed with Hannibal inside of him. His nerves shocked him back into action as he shoved his hips back. The answering grip and smack of his ass made him reconsider just a fraction of a second.

 

“Be still.” Hannibal growled, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back with force. This was the punishing rhythm he set, and it was extremely gratifying for Will as he writhed and moaned, legs shaking at the pleasure-pain. “So fucking good, more please, Hannibal daddy-“

 

Hannibal obliges, ramming harder, deeper, until Will could almost taste him, feels his insides sparking from the ploughing pleasure, the heavy curl of arousal from his belly rising, rising, finally rushing into the base of his cock-

 

Slender fingers pinched tight around the base of Will’s cock. “No.” Will downright whimpered and mewled at the denied orgasm, hips thrusting back furtively as Hannibal selfishly chases his.

 

It was mind numbingly good yet soul-crushingly frustrating, to hear Hannibal’s soft moans pitched higher, and then his hips stilled, forcing himself deeper in still until Will’s legs give and he is slammed into the wall. He felt the spreading wet warmth within himself, knowing that he had gotten what he was wanted.

 

“Daddy, please, this is too much…” Will clenches tentatively around Hannibal’s cock as his seed was spilled within him, urging and teasing. He wants to come, goddamit, and Hannibal will give what he wants, what he needs.

 

The doctor _finally_ relented, fisting at his engorged cock as his own hips rolled lazily forward. “Come then, dirty slutty boy. Some whore you are, wanting more than what you deserved.”

 

Another desperate jerk forward into Hannibal’s fist and he came undone, blistering white hot pleasure shooting right into his optic nerves and nearly blinded him. “So good, fuck, daddy you’re so good…” Their hips slow as Will rode out the last of his orgasm, slumping against the wall with a tired grunt.

 

“Fuck me.”

 

“Already did. Now to clean up.” Hannibal removed himself without so much as a glance, tucking himself back in and resumed their preparation as though the entire situation never happened. It has always been like this with the doctor; a possessive need to take everything now, and then passion fizzling out to a normal, acceptable person-suit level _normal_.

 

Will took far longer to recover, huffing in annoyance. It was a show, all of it. To sate the doctor for just one more day, lest he decided to focus his muse back onto Will. At least, that was what Will to convince himself ever since their fall.

 

Watching Hannibal now though, his meticulous surgeon hands steady as they were, opening up the dead barista’s abdomen to search for a prime cut of gut or kidneys, he could not help feeling just _right._ He belonged here, to sate both of their primal pleasures whenever they can. Because why not?

 

“Why not indeed.” Hannibal’s voice cuts through Will’s thoughts, placing the organs of his choice into a cooler bag. “You were speaking out loud.” He stands, limbs unfolding like a cat’s. Almost intimidating even, but Will has taken it as an affectionate need to get closer to him.

 

They moved towards each other, attracted by the dark gravity the other exudes, and ensnared each other’s lips for a kiss.

 

“We can take what we want.” Will whispered, almost reverent in his realisation.

 

“We can. As long as you come back to me.” Hannibal swipes a bloody thumb against the younger man’s cheek. His smile had no heat behind them, merely utter and wonderful fascination.

 

“Like moth to a flame.”

 

“Like waves to a beach.”

* * *

 

_HAVANA, CUBA: A barista by the name of Antonio Martinez was found mutilated by unknown assailants, his body hung by fish hooks and face torn apart into a grisly ‘Glasgow smile’. He was found by a fellow colleague who wishes to remain anonymous, citing that ‘the body was found pouring coffee from his mouth’._

_More to come as the story unravels._


End file.
